


Analysis Paralysis

by storm_of_sharp_things



Series: 2020 MI6 Cafe Anon Gift Exchange [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Fluff and Crack, M/M, Prompt Fill, a bored double-oh is an unpredictable double-oh, domestic Bond of sorts, kitty litter, tormenting Mallory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:42:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27800968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storm_of_sharp_things/pseuds/storm_of_sharp_things
Summary: Q is at work and receives a rather erratic call from Bond, who should be at home..This is for week 1 of the 2020 MI6 Cafe Anon Gift Exchange and (more or less) fills the prompt:“Your cat just shat all over the clean litter again.”“How come he’s my cat whenever you don’t feel like-”“Love, I’ve just spent an hour scooping out the litter box. It’s your turn.”
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Series: 2020 MI6 Cafe Anon Gift Exchange [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2034055
Comments: 46
Kudos: 89
Collections: Mi6 Cafe Prompt Fills





	Analysis Paralysis

**Author's Note:**

> This piece of work is entirely the fault of [christinefromsherwood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/christinefromsherwood)
> 
> storm: But I have no desire to write about kitty litter  
> christine, working her evil magic behind the scenes: no?  
> storm: Oh fuck. I just had a mental image...  
> christine: muahahahha

Q’s personal cell phone vibrated in his pocket for the fourth time. Mallory, standing next to him at the comm station, gave him a look of mild disapproval that Q ignored along his phone. It was only when he’d finishing guiding 009 out of danger and given the pillock complete instructions on how to find his own arse with both hands and a torch that he handed off his headset to a Q branch minion and stepped aside to answer. “What is so important, James? I’m still...”

“Your bloody cats must’ve got a tin of bad food or something because they’ve been filling the litter box all morning!”

“What do you mean, _my_ cats...wait, are they sick? Do they need to go to the vet?”

“No, nothing like that! They just won’t _stop_. And we’ll need a biohazard sign for the smell!”

“...I know you’re normally away on missions but you just need to scoop the litter, James.”

“I’ve been scooping all morning!”

“We haven’t changed their food...wait. Did you give them some of your omelette from this morning?”

James’ voice took on an outraged tone. “No! And are you saying there’s something wrong with my cooking?”

“Of course not.” Q held the bridge of his nose, praying for patience. “It’s just that there are some things cats shouldn’t eat.”

“They’re cats! Semi-feral little faux-domesticated house predators! We’ve caught them rummaging in the bin!”

“They’re house cats, not tigers out in the jungle, James.”

“Regardless, _your_ cats have shat all over the place and...”

“They’re _our_ cats. We live together. And we both went to the shelter to pick them out!” Q clenched his jaw and lowered his voice. “Look, just change out the cat litter.”

“I’ve been scooping and refilling for hours and there is No! More! Litter!”

“Oh for... Look, I’ll send a runner to the pet shop and...”

“My god, Q, what kind of twit do you take me for?” James let out a low growl. “I heard you inhale. Don’t answer that. I’m already _in_ the pet shop.”

“ _Then what is the problem?_ Wait, you left the cats in the flat without litter?”

There was a defensive pause. “I locked them in the toilet. At least we can hose that down.”

Q was speechless.

“...and I left some blankets on the floor and the tap running in the sink for water.” James seemed to realise the inadequacy of his response, but continued regardless. “We can burn the blankets after...”

“Or launder them,” Q retorted tartly.

“There’s not enough bleach in the world.”

Q found himself about to make an impatient gesture and shoved his hand into his pocket, refocusing on the point of this ridiculous conversation. “So you’re at the shop. I repeat, what _is_ the problem?”

“There are three aisles of cat litter here!” James hissed. _“What kind do I get?!”_

Q clapped a hand over his mouth to try and keep from laughing out loud.

“It’s not funny, Q!”

Q bit his lip, wanting to disagree, but not trusting his voice.

James’ voice took on a sharper pitch. “There’s clay litter and wood litter and paper litter and plant fibre litter and artificial litter, there’s scented and unscented, clumping or non-, absorbent or super absorbent or multi-cat or quick-acting,” James inhaled mid-rant and raised his voice slightly, _“as if you would want slow-acting!_ I don’t see a brand advertising bloody quicksand although why the fuck not, perhaps it’s in the next bloody aisle, and some of them...some of them have crystals! For cats to shit upon! And there are multiple _colours_ of crystals! And this kind is organic? What is _organic_ cat litter? _What is this world, Q?”_

In the background, Q could hear a tentative voice saying “Sir? Sir, are you all right? Do you need assistance? Should you sit down, perhaps? Can I get you a sip of water?”

Q sternly controlled himself. “Calm down, 007,” he ordered in the best approximation of his mission voice that he could muster at the moment. “I’m texting you a picture of the kind we normally buy, all right?”

“...right. Yes.” He took a deep breath. “Thank you, Q.”

“And buy them some freeze-dried chicken for treats and a few of those plush mice with catnip in and they’ll forgive you anything when you get home to let them out.”

“Oh. Yes. That’s an excellent point, thank you. And possibly some body armour.”

“Doubt you’d find that in the pet shop, but I’ve been surprised before.”

James gave a short laugh. “I’m sorry, Q, I may have got a bit...umm.”

Q sighed, a fond smile crossing his face. “You’ve gone off your trolley from being on medical leave and having nothing to do but physical therapy and psych sessions.”

James snorted. “I’d happily be doing _you_ if you’d been home anytime in the past three days.”

“Well, if you’d kindly push 009 off a building the next time you see him, I wouldn’t have to deal with him being such a twatwaffle on missions.”

“...consider it done,” James growled, low and ardent, and Q felt a tiny thrill of arousal.

“Er, sir?” Q heard faintly through the phone. “Sir, you’re scaring the other customers...”

“James,” he said sternly.

James laughed, amused and relaxed again. “Yes, I’m making my purchases now, young lady. But perhaps you could help me pick out some soft...furry... _plush_ mice. The kind that cats like to... _play_ with?”

Q heard the charm begin to ooze from James’ voice and hung up, rolling his eyes. No doubt the hapless shop girl would be offering James her employee discount soon. He snorted. As long as that was _all_ James accepted...

He found an image of the desired kitty litter brand online and texted it to James, then shoved his phone back into his pocket.

Mallory was watching him with an eyebrow raised. “Are you and Bond...doing all right?” he asked delicately.

“If Psych tries to send him to one more ‘holistic’ handholding session, I’m personally deleting their entire database,” Q scowled.

Mallory snorted and held a hand up. “Yes, the department head responsible for that particular push has been reassigned. Or he will be, once he comes out of hiding; 006 didn’t care much for it either.” Mallory’s mouth curled in amusement.

“Mmm. Well, I’m taking the next few days off to keep my agent from going entirely feral from boredom. You can thank me later, preferably with a bonus in my pay cheque. Sounds as though we might have to refinish some floors. And possibly a toilet.” Q paused in the doorway as he considered the likely outcome of James’ feline adventures. “I suppose I’d better take a first aid kit with me,” he mused.

“Quartermaster? What will you...what will he do when he...retires?” Mallory sounded legitimately curious and Q hid his smirk before turning to look at him.

“Oh, didn’t he speak to you already? He was talking about shadowing you, to move into your job when you’ve left for politics, M.” Q nodded and left, savouring the man’s muted expression of horror. That would teach Mallory to keep putting 009 on these sensitive missions.

Q grinned and walked faster. He couldn’t _wait_ to tell James about the ‘retirement’ plan. No more boredom for a double-oh with a target and a mission. He restrained a cackle firmly.

And...maybe he should pull out the automatic litter box cleaner he’d ordered and improved. He’d been saving it as a gift, but that may not have been the wisest decision. Q smirked. He was about to make James’ day in at least three ways.


End file.
